The Everest Brothers: Ethan - Hutton - Bennett

by Scott, S. L.

  Bumping against him, I say, “No. It’s nice to hear.” I walk ahead of him. “What’s down here?”

  “Probably a messy bedroom.” I’m yards—yes yards, because this place is so damn big—ahead of him, making my way straight down the hall while peeking into each room I pass. Not his. Not his. Not his. “Palace,” I mumble. Goose!

  I walk into the cleanest bedroom I’ve ever seen. Not an item is out of place in the uncluttered space. The wood floors shine from a recent polish and not one wrinkle covers the duvet. Speaking of . . . “That’s the biggest bed I’ve ever seen.” I run and jump into the middle, ruffling up the blanket and sheets. Turning my face to the side, I say, “A giant sleeps here.”

  He chuckles from the doorway.

  I roll over, propping myself up on my elbows. I glance at the clock on the nightstand and then back at him. “It’s only five. I’m not going to make it to seven.”

  Coming to the end of the bed, he takes my ankles and pulls me toward the end until my butt is almost at the edge. Leaning over me, he rests his arms on either side of my head. “Do you think you’ll be able to give an account of what’s been happening to the security team tonight?”

  “You need to work on your sweet talk.”

  “I’ll take that as a pause for now on that topic.” He laughs. “But how about kissing? Do I need to work on that?”

  “It’s been too long to judge. I need a reminder.”

  “Happy to oblige.” He holds my gaze for a few anxious beats of my heart before he leans down and kisses me. My eyes fall closed, and my heartstrings reattach to his, and then it’s over too soon. “How did I do?”

  I wish we could kiss all day. He’s just as amazing as he always is. “You’re a talented man.”

  “I was inspired. I want to ask you something.”

  “Ask away.”

  He pushes my hair back from my face and strokes my cheek several times, his eyes fixed on my lips. “Are we together?”

  When he trails his way to my eyes, I nod, ever so slightly and a lot squirmy. “Yes, I suppose we are.”

  “More than proximity?”

  “More than proximity.”

  I’m rewarded with a slow, lingering lick across my bottom lip, a little tug, and then the sweetest pressure of his lips against mine asking for more. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold him right where he is. I’m sure it’s the jet lag making me feel so much for this man. It must be the lack of sleep, delirium, the emotions ballooning inside. I hold my tongue before I say more than I should.

  Permission granted.

  Closing my eyes, I kiss him, my body relaxed but my hunger aroused. Pulling back suddenly, I ask, “Do you mind if I take a shower? I feel so dirty after flying.”

  A sigh escapes him, but he’s kind enough not to let his disappointment show. “That way,” he says, pushing up. “Towels are on the shelf along with anything else you need. I’ll get you something clean to wear and leave it here on the bed.”

  I stare at him in disbelief. I hate the comparison, but I couldn’t help the memory of when I dared to pull away from Kurt. It didn’t end well for me. Yet here is this man, a little disappointed to pause things, but kindness and understanding fill his eyes. I hug him tight around his neck. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For being you. For being so wonderful to me.”

  “You deserve wonderful. You deserve more.”

  I kiss his cheek, and then ask, “What are you going to do?”

  Rolling to the side onto his back, he throws one arm wide while the other slips under me. “Hang out waiting for you.”

  “As soon as I’m clean. I like that thing you do with your face and mouth. It’s my favorite. But I’d feel better if I showered first.”

  He’s chuckling. “One time and you already have favorites?”

  I steal another quick kiss and climb off the bed. Kicking off my shoes, I send them flying in different directions. “Absolutely. Don’t you?”

  “I do.”

  “Are you going to tell me?”

  “Yes.” He eyes me as if he already sees me fitting snugly right into his life. “I’ll let you know when the time is right.” This gentle giant’s gaze sweeps over me as he gets up. “Shout if you need me. I’m going to make a few calls.”

  “Okay.” I bunch the bottom of my shirt in my hands, suddenly a little nervous. My chest feels tight when I realize how deeply I already care for him.

  I’m unsure what to do with these feelings. I didn’t expect him. I definitely didn’t see a man that good finding me at my worst, and instead of turning a cold shoulder, he offered me his hand.

  He leaves, and I’m left to my own devices, free to snoop as I please. “Shower, Winter.” I take another quick look around the bedroom and smile. The furniture is a little different than I imagined for him. Back in Paris, I saw him surrounded by eighteenth-century French pieces curated to fit the opulence of the hotel.

  Here, he’s modern lines mixed with rich brown leather. Open, but warm. This room, and his entire apartment, is much more relaxed. Comfortable and not pretentious. If I ever had to describe Bennett, it might be the same.

  The bathroom is big, just how I love it. The bathroom rivals the fanciest spas in Europe with white marble, wood shelves, and pale blue towels the size to fit a Viking. I smile, squeezing the plush cotton as I pass to turn on the water.

  The water warms within seconds. Beats the pipes in my apartment, but that comes with living in a brownstone and trading modern conveniences for the character of our city’s past.

  I step under the spray, thinking I’m ready to trade my past for a new life. Closing my eyes, I let the water run over me, hair and all, washing away my makeup, the grime of the day, and hoping the threat I’ve been living under drains away.

  Can Bennett really protect me? Can the Everest brothers take on McCoy if I give them the information I know? How will my family react to my return?

  Bait.

  I was nothing more than a worm on a hook for Kurt. I owe Bennett and his brothers so many apologies I don’t know where to begin.

  I did what I was told because I didn’t know the master plan, but now I wonder what role my father has been playing. It seems too convenient that Bennett ended up in Paris from my father’s request to check on me when Kurt is collecting them. Are they in this together? Bennett’s right. My father is the key, but what game is he playing?

  My father has shown me who he really is, but it’s still hard for my heart to believe. Tears fall with the spray, rivulets stream down my body, the flat of my stomach, and tops of my thighs as they race to the drain.

  Large arms wrap around me from behind. Kisses cover the exposed skin of my neck through wet hair. “Don’t cry,” he whispers against my shoulder before kissing it.

  I curl into him, molding myself to his body wanting to sink into his arms, his heart, his life, his world. With my head still down, Bennett turns me around.

  Standing in a soaking wet white shirt and dress pants, bare feet, and a silver watch that reflects the light from above, all I see is his heart worn proudly on his sleeve. I embrace him, my arms around his middle as tight as I can hold him.

  The water rains down on our parade, and I’m so okay with that. I have him. I have him willing to weather the storm and a shower after a long day. He softens my sharp thorns and braves the planes of my prickly leaves. I’m the luckiest woman in the world. I say, “I don’t deserve you.”

  “Sure, you do.” An underlying smile elicits mine. He kisses my forehead. “I don’t know what you’ve done that makes you so bad, but I feel you. I see you. The beating heart, the soft smiles, the stars in your eyes, and the love letters you write with your fingertips on my skin.” He holds me tighter, sliding his big hands to cover my lower back. “And you know what?”

  “What?”

  “I feel the same, cactus flower.” I’m kissed right where I need it most—on the lips. And I kiss him back, unbuttoning his shirt as
he undoes his pants. When he’s removed everything from his lower half, he bends toward me, raising his arms as I strip off the wet undershirt sticking to his skin, then he straightens up again.

  The clothes are kicked to the corner and I’m pressed to the wall, my face cupped, his middle against me. As steam fills the shower stall, he turns his attention to my lower body and kneels before me. Lifting one leg over his shoulder, he then cups my breasts and squeezes while his mouth takes me between my legs. Then he looks up at me with what looks like reverence and says, “I don’t deserve you.”

  And I melt.

  Steam billows around me as I lean my head back, mouth wide open as I pant from the pleasure. I’ve never felt freer to react to a sexual act than the extent he allows me. Moans steadily escape me as his tongue dips inside.

  I hold his head as my knees start to wobble, and my body begins to slide down the marble behind me.

  His hands pin my hips in place, and he steals a peek up at me before diving deeper and teasing my pleasure right out of me. “Oh, God. That feels so good,” I say, my voice feeble as I reach the edge of the orgasm.

  “You deserve to feel so good, Winter. You deserve everything good.” With one more lap against me, he has me sailing off the cliff to the heavenly skies into pure bliss.

  Standing breathless before me, he holds my body as I get my bearings again. When I’m picked up, I wrap my arms and legs around him, our mouths making love as he carries me to the bed. The top of my head tips off the end of the mattress, and he kisses my body all over—chin, neck, collarbone, between my breasts, my ribs where he pauses. When I look up, I see a frown, and then anger crosses his face. He kisses me there again, this time tenderly before he continues leaving a kiss on each side of me before he goes lower to my belly. Spreading my legs, he kisses my inner thighs, and then I’m bare as he reaches into the drawer of his nightstand.

  Returning before the cool air of the room sets in, he runs his hands up my legs and back down, lifting one up and kissing my ankles. I close my eyes, wanting his mouth selfishly savoring all of me again and relishing in the sensations. His body hovers above me, his erection pushing into the embrace of my body. Tilting my head back, I can feel his heated breath on my chest. And then I’m with him, moving against him and matching him breath for breath, thrust for thrust.

  I scrape my nails over the back of his shoulders and greedily beg for more—faster, harder—more.

  More.

  More.

  He focuses his strength on the goal, and like my head is on this mattress, I’m tipped over the edge the moment his fingers find my sensitivity, encircling my swell for him.

  A groan follows as he finds what he’s seeking deep inside me. I hold his head to me as my name flows like poetry from his lips across my chest. The kisses are less insistent, lingering longer, tasting the love we made until our lips meet again and our tongues slow dance.

  “Dream a Little Dream of Me” plays in the back of my mind, and I kiss his temple before he has a chance to escape. I’m so close to saying those three words that I’ve never felt more than at this perfect moment. I love his weight balanced on me, and the connection we’ve made.

  After another shower and getting ready for sleep, we slide under the covers again. The bed’s so huge it doesn’t even matter if he claims the center, but I still tease, “Bed hog,” which makes him chuckle. He turns off the lights, and my eyes grow heavy, despite wanting to stay up and listen to him breathe and dream. Wrapped up in each other, I add, “We don’t need this big bed when we’re sleeping like this.”

  Spooning. It’s been so long . . . wait . . . this might be a first for me. A satisfied smile splits my cheeks. Doesn’t matter that he can’t see, he can feel my body vibrating with happiness.

  He kisses my shoulder. I let myself begin to slip into a contented sleep. Just before I’m lost to the dream world, he whispers, “This is my favorite.”

  20

  Bennett

  Ethan flips through the file in front of him, scanning the pages with the speed of a Jedi, possibly becoming one with the mind trick that tech billionaires develop after hitting it big. “This says she’s been unemployed for a year.”

  “I don’t know.” I shrug. “We’ll ask her when she gets up.”

  “How do you not know? You spent seven hours in the air and an entire night with her. How could you not have talked about the men who were after you?”

  “Ethan?” Singer rests her hand on his arm, drawing his attention. When he looks at her, she adds, “Please be patient. You’ll get your answers shortly. A lot happened yesterday, and they were tired.” Standing, she moves behind him and rubs his shoulders. She looks at me, her smile full of empathy. “I don’t want you fighting each other. This isn’t business. This is personal. You must stick together.”

  “Where does that leave Winter?” I ask.

  Ethan leans back, relaxing under the shoulder massage. “If you trust her, so do we. As for how we proceed, we’re relying on you to tell us what you want us to do. Aaron will join us when you’re both ready to go over the details.”

  Aaron, Ethan’s mercenary driver, has taken over security for the family in the last year. Making sure we’re covered in some capacity is his top priority. Lars is the expert at securing locations since he was at one time a former Secret Service agent for a government figure. They make a hell of a team.

  “In the meantime,” Singer says, “we should go and let them start their day without an audience.”

  “You don’t have to leave on my account.” I turn to see Winter walking toward us tentatively. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

  I stand quickly to greet her. Shielding her from the others, I adjust the baggy shirt back onto her shoulders as she tugs at the strings to the sweatpants, tightening until the fabric bunches at her waist. I lean down and caress her face. “Good morning, beautiful.”

  “Good morning,” she replies, holding my wrists as I kiss her. When I begin to pull back, she holds me there. “I didn’t know you had company.”

  “My brother and sister-in-law.”

  Running her hand down her hair, she lowers her voice. “But I look a mess.”

  “You look incredible. Anyway, they know about our circumstances when we left France. They’re here to get security in place.”

  Her hand rests on her chest as she peeks around me. “All right.”

  I take her hand, hoping to calm the nerves making it shake. I’m ready to introduce her but stop. “We don’t have to do this now.”

  “I’m fine. I really am.”

  I have to trust what she tells me. We also need answers, and it seems we’re only going to get them from her. “I’ll be here for you every step of the way.”

  “Thank you.”

  Ethan and Singer are standing halfway between the table where we were sitting and the door. “Winter Nobleman—”

  And then it happens too quickly for me to stop it . . . She curtsies and then takes Singer’s hand, shaking it vigorously. “It is so amazing to meet royalty.”

  I cringe inside on her behalf but speak up. “This is my fault. Singer’s not the princess.”

  Winter’s head whips to face me. “What?” And then horror and embarrassment redden her cheeks and neck. To Singer, she says, “I’m so sorry. Bennett mentioned a princess lived down the hall.”

  Singer smiles and reaches for Winter’s hands. “It’s okay. I understand how this could happen.” Tilting her head to the side, she adds, “Ally is the kindest person I know. And she has a good sense of humor. She’ll enjoy this story, but she’ll like meeting you more.”

  “Thank you.” Laughing, Winter leans forward, holding her stomach, and then says, “I’m so sorry again.”

  “No worries. For real.”

  Hearing Singer say “For real” reminds me of Winter saying it last night. I think they’re going to get along just fine.

  “This is Ethan,” I say.

  “Wow, that’s all I get. Thanks, ma
n, for the stupendous introduction.” He chuckles and holds out his hand. “Hi, I’m this guy’s older brother and boss. It’s very nice to meet you, Winter.”

  “Can you tell how much he loves being my boss?” I ask.

  Winter nods. “Yes.” Turning to me, she asks, “Any coffee?”

  “Yes.”

  “We’ll leave you two alone so you can wake up properly. Although I’ve always found it’s easier to fly back and gain hours versus losing them, jet lag sucks,” Singer says.

  “Me too,” Winter says as I walk them to the door. “Nice meeting you.”

  “You too.” Right before the door closes, Singer adds, “Let me know if you need anything.”

  “We will. Thanks.” I shut the door and then return to my girl. “How about a proper good morning?”

  “I like proper, but you know what I like better? Improper. Right. After. Coffee.”

  I laugh, following her into the kitchen. “That’s fair, but just know I’m going to hold you to that.”

  “I expect to be held in all kinds of positions.”

  Taking hold of her, I roam my hands over her back and lower until I reach the curve of her ass and squeeze. “Where have you been all my life?”

  “Right here in this big city waiting for a giant to show up and rescue me.”

  “You didn’t need a hero. You were doing fine on your own.”

  “That’s because you don’t know the full story.”

  “And that’s something we’re going over today. Let’s get you coffee and get dressed. Can I make you breakfast?”

  “Coffee’s good.”

  “How about food? You need food, Winter.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “I’ll toast bagels.”

  She shoots me a look that I think is meant to level me, but it makes me smile instead. “I don’t eat bread or carbs in general.”

  “How do you not eat carbs? It’s brain food.”

  Tapping her head, she says, “Yet I’ve managed to survive, cogs working at full speed.”

  “I watched you inhale cookies in my room and a fry.”